This thing is so amazing we don't even know where to start. Here goes: THIS IS A SPIDER. A twig-like, feather-legged spider, Miagrammopes sp. We humbly bow down to this creature, which looks so very unspiderlike in every way. Photo: Nicky Bay.

Sometimes, your face looks like a face. Other times, it looks like a lady bug. This is the larva of the common awl (Hasora badra badra), which clearly falls into the latter category. Photo: Nicky Bay.

This ant-mimic crab spider (Amyciaea lineatipes) was hoping to attract a weaver ant by waving its forelegs and dancing around. It worked. Photo: Nicky Bay.

One of the more incredible spiders we've ever seen, this bird dung crab spider is doing its best to resemble something that most birds wouldn't want to eat. It also looks like a totem pole. Photo: Nicky Bay.

We swear there is a grasshopper (Systella rafflesii) in this pile of leaves. Do you see it? Give us your best guess in the comments! Photo: Nicky Bay.

Treehoppers are among the most fascinating insects. In addition to often being exquisitely ornamented (and armored), the bugs (Membracidae) communicate with one another by vibrating the branches they're perched on. Different vibrations mean different things -- like alarm calls, for example. Rex Cocroft, an entomologist at the University of Missouri, has transduced some of the treehoppers' shaking songs into tones audible to humans. They sound like everything from percussive pulses to whalesong. Photo: Nicky Bay.

Scorpions are arachnids (like spiders), and this is not an arachnid. It's an insect that's doing its best to make its front legs look like claws and its tail look like a stinger. In reality, that tail functions like a snorkel: The water scorpion (Nepidae) uses it to breathe underwater. Oh, it also has two pairs of wings, and it flies. Photo: Nicky Bay.

This leaf insect (Phyllium sp.) has a thin, wafer-like body that is almost indistinguishable from an actual leaf. Photo: Nicky Bay.

These stick insects (Aschiphasma annulipes) are so intricately beautiful it's a shame they blend in so well with their green background. Photo: Nicky Bay.

If you're going to hide in plain sight in a humid, tropical place, looking like a patch of moss isn't a bad idea. That's what this mantis (Ceratohaania sp.) does. Mostly. From the side, its silhouette also manages to look remarkably dinosaurish. Photo: Nicky Bay.

This is a leaf with red eyes. Aka, a Fulgoroid planthopper from the family Flatidae. Photo: Nicky Bay.

This spider (Ariamnes sp) uses its abdomen to resemble a twig. A twig in the breeze, perhaps. "Definitely not easy to get everything in the same plane of focus for this restless spider," Bay noted. Photo: Nicky Bay.

This is not a spider, it's a bird dropping...or just a very cleverly colored little crab spider (Thomisidae). Photo: Nicky Bay.

Insects and spiders wear the best, most elaborate costumes around. Better, even, than Lady Gaga and her cracked-out impersonations of futuristic bubble weirdos.

But the bugs aren’t doing it for entertainment (mostly). Instead, mimicry — the act of resembling another species — evolved to deceive. It serves many purposes, but defense and predation are chief among them. Over time, some bugs have evolved such magnificently deceptive disguises that they’re nearly identical to the real thing.

Seriously, just try and find the grasshopper in this pile of leaves. Even beneath the macro lens of Singapore-based photographer Nicky Bay, the insect is nearly invisible.

Disguise isn’t always visual, though. Odors, tastes, behaviors, and sounds are all available for copying.

Mimicking your prey for the purposes of easier hunting (as the ant-mimic crab spider does, for example) is called aggressive mimicry. Some of the spookiest examples of this system are the femme fatale fireflies: Females in the genus Photuris prey upon male fireflies of a different genus, Photinus. The females catch their prey by mimicking the flickering courtship signals given off by Photinus females. Then, when the unfortunate suitors arrive, the predatory Photuris females attack, kill, and eat them.

Conversely, pretending to be toxic when you aren’t (like a ladybird mimic) is a different form of deviousness, and is called Batesian mimicry (named after English natural Henry Walter Bates). When two poisonous or distasteful species resemble the other — as the viceroy and monarch butterflies do — it’s called Mullerian mimicry (named after German naturalist Fritz Muller). And, though blending in to the background is just good old camouflage, evolving to resemble something specific, like a plant, twig, or bird dung gets a fancy word: mimesis.

These photographs, all used with permission from Nicky Bay, demonstrate some of the best buggy mimics.